Blindfolded Circus Acts and Sea Spray Lullabies
by my.wonderland
Summary: She was made of wildfire, cradled on seaspray lullabies. He was made of tougher things, wide eyes to an alternate universe. And some how, like their parents before them, they were destined to meet. A story of the next generation. Read and Review! .


**B**lindfolded **C**ircus **A**cts and **S**ea **S**pray **L**ullabies.

Chapter One. Part One.

When one could no longer see through their eyes, their memory became their next best form of comfort. Sitting alone in her room, staring into the Nothing Ness of eternity, the Blank Ness and wasted sights Lucy turned memory after memory over in her mind.

Colours were something Lucy could remember.

Hunger and time had altered the shades, had given them power and life and personality. Making the reds more aggressive, the blues more tranquil, the yellows the colour of a golden sunshine, cascading across a field of sunflowers. They were more energetic by memory, violent bursts of colour of times long been and relived only in the lonely mind. Her own torture to mark what she was loosing but what she had already lost. Green paint across pale cheeks, cracking in the lines of naked palms. The purple of her mother's favourite dress adorned with silver stitching. Pink lips, rosy cheeks, vivid displays of eye shadow under arched eyebrows. Blue and white speckled china plates, fallingfallingfalling.

Some memories were lost, swallowed in the Dark Ness or held captive where her mind couldn't reach them. Others she recalled easily, down to every tiny detail. That day was certainly one recalled without difficulty, but only alone in her room with the door closed and her mind racing would she allow herself to slip back in time.

Children ran one after the other through the dusty streets. Past the butcher, past the baker, past the mothers hanging underclothes on the clothes lines, lips pursed, clasping pegs, apron tied tightly around hip, basket pressed close. One after the other they disappeared around the corner, around the houses, around the stores, laughter echoing in their wake. Patchy clothes and grubby hands, grass stains and dirt stains and smudges of breakfast and grime across freckled cheeks. Towards the ocean and the white wings waving, dappled by sunlight, pure, clean and new.

A procession of ladies and gentlemen stood on parade in the gathering heat, delicate faces and delicate pride shielded by frilled parasols in pastel shades. The new fleet from London had docked the day previous. In celebration of this fine event the Royal Navy and the Governor had agreed to partake in a small voyage, a sort of christening Lucy somewhat supposed.

Herehereherehereherehere. Onthedock on the dock. The rumble of the blue, the call of the birds, the raised voices. Here. It had been here it had all happened, eight years ago with the running and the falling and the Dark Ness. Being dragged downdowndown. And then nothing.

Gloved hand in gloved hand a trickle of blood subsided between clenched lips. Running her tongue over the bitterness Lucy fingered the creases gathered at her waist, nodding in time to each question cast upon her. Yes she would be fine staying by herself for the day. No she wouldn't wander off. Yes she had finished her French notes. No she wouldn't wait up. Yes it was a lovely day. No it didn't look like it was going to rain. Yes there was a possibility it might. Yes there was also a possibility that it might _not_. Yes her mother did look lovely. Yes her father did too. Yes they had best be off. No they hadn't forgotten anything. Yes it was _well and truly_ time to board.

"Just _go_ already. I'll be here when you get back."

"I know you will but remember-"

"To take it easy, stay inside the yard, don't stay up too late-"

"And _be careful_."

"Father will you just take her away already?"

Seventeen years old. A virgin. Never been kissed except on her hand and politely on her cheek. Lucy was needless to say _always careful. _But that wasn't what they were referring to.

A squeeze of the hand, a quick embrace and a hurried exchange of I-love-you's and Elizabeth and William Turner turned eyes from their blind daughter with the easy smile and dull green eyes, blonde hair limp under her bonnet. She looked so pale and unnerved standing there on the dock, Miss Carmichael's arm laced through hers, steady and secure. Their daughter built of wildfire and laughter, of the constant smile and sharp tongue, cradled on sea spray lullabies had been banished from her coloured wonderland. She stood so shrunken. And this had been where it had all happened. It had been this dock and this ocean, an old friend and whisper of adventure, which had robbed them of their baby, eight years ago.

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hello my darlings. the new movies are coming out soon so i'm trying revive my writing spirit and start a hit. lol. so for me to think i'm doing anything good i want you to post! comment! review! offer feedback! or what you'd like to happen, hey i'm open to your ideas!

jack's son the dalring patrick should hopefully be making an appearance in the second chapter. after the second part of the first which i have yet to post.

here's a preview:

_It was there in that cell, with the tiny window leading to the sea that Patrick realised things had gone severely wrong. His entire world was shrunk to the size of a rectangle hastily cut from the side of the…_

xx


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